Star Wars: The Dark Calling
by OllieLemur
Summary: Taken from where I left off in the reading (Darksaber I think) and continuing from there. A dark presence in the force manifests eleven years later in the form of an overtly powerful, violet-eyed orphan girl Luke and Han meet on the planet Chimeria.
1. Prologue

  
Back in the days when I wasn't as good a writer as I am now:  
  
This is a series that I started back in freshman year (my gawd, forever!) when I was on a total Star Wars kick. So most of the chars are NOT mine but a lot of them are. A lot of the stuff might be out-dated but for the reading pleasure of it, it's not a thing I really intend on finishing but I wouldn't mind people reading it. I just have a large chunk of Part one done and a chunk of part two, and nothing of part three. But I hope you enjoy and perhaps I might get back into this and finish it and send it to the SW company for publishing! LOL  
  
Until!  
  
R. C. Carpenter  
  
  
  
  
Star Wars:  
The Dark Calling  
One of A Series of Three  
  
A LONG time ago in a galaxy far, far away...  
Prologue  
The New Republic had led the galaxy for roughly thirty years. Its phenomenal administration abilities consumed even the outward expansions of space. This unspoiled parliament became a legend in its own time, molded out of former rebels and warriors, persisting farther than the onlookers thought conceivable. This was not just by chance that the officials were so fortunate at their work. They were gripped together by a great collection of protectors, the Jedi.  
The Jedi Knights cared for and shielded the vast universe, guiding and defending the civilizations encircling them. The greatest amongst the Jedi were the Jedi Masters, notably Luke Skywalker and his greatest accomplishment, Kyp Durron. They educated thousands of prospectable young Jedi in the ways of the Force over the past twenty-five years. There were, however, the temptations of the Dark Side. Most ignored the calling . . . But some did not.  
  
Some became followers of the quick and easy path that was the dark side of the Force, working against the New Republic and every thing it stood for. Though their efforts never succeeded in gaining any power that the Jedi needed to worry about, they were all banished to the most desolate corners of the cosmos to live out their lives in solitude, never to be heard from again. Even though there was the constant risk of a forceful Jedi converting to the corruption, the Jedi flourished in the new government and few (of sane mind) dare oppose their powers.  
  
Until now, when an old threat runs anew . . . and the ones who can stop it don't even know it exists.  
  
  
Fourteen years after the Battle of Endor  
  
"Master? What's wrong?" A young man decored in the routine Jedi wardrobe, rose his head from reserved meditation and gazed at the older man a few meters away with awe. The other man sat blank faced glancing around the room. His hair was slightly streaked with a weak blonded-white and suggestions of a brown long departed, his face was that of an individual who had seen considerable agony and torment, but also much bliss and affection. Though nearly all of his robust configuration was that of an intelligent mentor, his sapphire eyes appeared of that of a man in his prying best, beaming and augmenting, illuminating his entire bronzed face.   
  
He spun to the youthful Jedi, his long mystical gray cape shifting in the hushed zephyr that crept in from an uncovered window.  
  
"I fear we may have a new adversary, and a lethal one at that," the Jedi master paused and walked over to a shelf of books, yet his steps were so light you would only think him floating. He ran an aged finger over the top of a dusty leather cased book and slid it out of its holding with the care of the holding of a newborn. The binding flew open and began turning, the owner conscious of precisely what he believed would be exposed. Suddenly, the pages refrained their game and the Jedi proceeded back to his pupil and spoke, in his mesmerizing trance of a voice, "There will be others."  
  
At a further point of the immense Jedi fortress another Jedi-in-training, Leia Organa Solo, sat silently rehearsing her skills with two of Luke's brightest pupils. She too had felt the disturbance grow so hastily, yet she held her composure and continued to drill herself. Luke had shared the images he saw with the princess while he imitated meditation. Somewhere, something was born into life filled with hatred and consumed by the Dark Side. This child's vigor in the Force was stronger than anything the duo had ever experienced, even when in the total volume of all Luke's apprentices.   
  
And that is what they feared, feared not only for the survival of the Jedi and the New Republic, but the very foundation of all life in its self.  
  
The two other practicing students stopped and dropped to their knees to lay down the lightsabers and stood on either side of Leia to transfer their thoughts to the dazed woman. *What is wrong, Minister Organa Solo?* one Jedi questioned as she watched her friend turn away.  
  
Luke countered her deliberation, *No,* his voice resonant even in thought,* it's evil power is still out there. But if it is as powerful as we think, it could already block out anyway of it being found.* The senator shook her slight face and came out of the conversation. She undid her long brown hair from the fancy clips that held it up in a half dozen twisted braids. *I just hope we can get rid of this, this. . . thing, before it goes too far.*  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter One

Star Wars: The Dark Calling  
By R. C. Carpenter   
  
Chapter One  
  
Twenty-five years after the Battle of Endor  
  
JEDI Master Luke Skywalker and his companions, Han Solo and Chewbacca, flew across the star speckled galaxy in the newly restored *Millennium Falcon* to reach Cimmeria and discuss treaties as ambassadors of the New Republic. The captain of the ship switched on the intercom and casually spoke into it, the receiver back in the passengers area.  
  
"We should be coming up on Cimmeria soon, Luke." He turned the intercom off and glanced at Chewbacca, "Get ready to come out of hyperspace, Chewie." Han pushed a few apparatus' and then signaled to his copilot to come back to regular space with the flick of a wrist. The copilot decompressed the engines meticulously and lovingly, always feeling at home in the blackness of space.  
  
The blurs of stars languidly suspended back to their forms as ivory dots on a vast midnight canvas. The dark blue-black outline of Cimmeria lay distant from their ship, but advanced at a steady pace. Luke took up his Jedi Knight uniform and saber, he walked over to his brother-in-law and stared at the planet that was their destination.  
  
"Long time since anyone's been here, huh?" Luke's face wrinkled into a smile that brought light even to the mood of Han, for Han didn't have very fond memories of the last journey to the dark bluish planet.  
  
But for the time being, Han drove these anamnesis's behind him.  
  
As they prepared for landing, the intercom switched on and a face flew across the screen to match the bellow. The man was a Cimmerian, tall and dark skinned with dark blackened eyes and mahogany locks of hair, he spoke to Captain Solo in a most intimidated voice, "C-Captain S-Solo. . . sir!" he added quickly and then resumed his greeting, "We've been eager for your arrival. You may dock at Hanger I3-N4. Staff will be waiting there to take you and Jedi Skywalker. . . and the Wookiee, to your bunks. Out."  
  
His image was cleared and Chewie whirled his eyes in his massive Wookiee head and pulled the throttle back to bring the *Falcon* in for landing.  
  
******  
  
As the *Millennium Falcon's* engines laggardly shut down and pressure valves released the built up tension, three Cimmerian guards rushed to greet the visitors through the steam exerting from the ship's underbelly. The ships dock unfolded from side the now quiet star ship, and out marched the stately Captain Solo, the shaggy Chewbacca and the phenomenal Luke Skywalker. The men stood at a comfortable attention to acknowledge the company.  
  
"Great place to visit, Luke, but I wouldn't want to live here. Too many *happy* faces." Han whispered through his teeth, leaning down slightly to Luke as they exited the star cruiser.   
  
"You're right. There's something a little too cheery here, but they seem a little more scared than happy to see us. Let's not jump to conclusions right now, all right?" Luke turned to the guards and dipped his head and bowed down to them, thanking them for their hospitality. Han stood still, gawking around like a half-wit, until Chewbacca nudged him, and then they repeated Luke's actions.  
  
"Please, sirs, follow us to your rooms." One guard gestured to the hanger's door and the caravan of guards and guests followed.   
  
As they strolled along the dim-lit roads of Shancod, the primary city of the League of Cimmeria, they passed a small orphanage playground of sorts. It appeared to Luke that the children there were playing they were in the Galactic Civil War, perhaps a Rebel vs. Empire childhood fantasy. The League, a few scattered, wealthy areas under the influence of any form of true governing bodies, owned this orphanage and it was doubtless whether or not the children knew the correct histories for the administration spent very little, if anything, on the upkeep and educational programs of 'infidels'.   
  
Luke remembered those days all too well. He glanced down at his right hand and slowly brought it to a fist and then released it. Was it really thirty years? He didn't care though, be it thirty or three, it was over and the New Republic was doing quite nicely.  
  
One of the boys, a Rebel, jumped up and put a stick out at an other's abdomen, "I have you now, Vader!"  
  
* Vader?* Luke saw another boy, dressed in all black, with a black fabric mask over his face, leap from behind the child that was threatened with the stick. He came up to the boy holding the branch and stretched out a moment. The other children were getting a kick out of his performance, laughing so hard that some had tears in their eyes. Luke felt that he and his adventures were looked upon rather lightly on this planet. That made him considerably irritable, considering the great risks he and his friends had taken to save them from the darkness that would have enveloped them.  
  
*Oh, God. Why must they do that? Do they even know what happened?* He thought viciously but soon realize the folly of his actions, *No, they couldn't. They're only children. They don't understand those things,* he paused and then added, sadly, to himself, *and maybe they never will.* Luke continued along with the others, unaltered by the youngster's actions.  
  
The 'Sith Lord' lifted up a few rocks and draped them over the other child's tawny head. But the tiny Imp hadn't touched the stones.   
  
Luke casually glanced over quickly and then turned away.  
  
"Wait a second!" He looked again and stopped dead in his tracks, the others in his party still striding on forward.  
  
The 'Vader' now was picking up the stunned, but still laughing, 'Luke' with his unspoiled mind. The real Luke couldn't believe his eyes! Could this really be happening? Could a small child have such great power?  
  
He had to find out.  
  
"Hey!" he called out to them and the 'Dark Lord' dropped his objects, boy and all. The scared child bent down quickly to apologize to his friend for dropping him. Luke hurried over to them, leaving his little procession. He touched the 'Vader's shoulder, "Excuse me. . ."  
  
The child spun around to face him, his arm wrapped around the fallen boy's shoulder. His head and the fabric covering it shook tremendously, tottered up and down, looking at the boy, at the man, then back to the orphanage.  
  
"I'm sorry. I-I-I didn't mean it! Honest! I know I'n't supposed to do that, *please* don't report me. . ." 'Vader' removed the ply of a thick weave and to Luke's astonishment, it released the tear streaked face of a lovely young girl. The man stood frozen for the longest of moments, gawking in skepticism at the brown haired, violet-eyed virtuoso.  
  
After a swift barter of glances betwixt the children before the Jedi, the girl's friend spoke up with swift and earnest questions, "Sir, are you okay? Can you still see? Are you dead?"  
  
Luke blinked wildly, checked around for Han and Chewbacca, who were still walking on with the Cimmerian escorts, and then revolved to the two remaining children, "Yes-yes. . . I'm fine."  
  
He looked at the girl and grasped his head in his hands, bewildered by what he just witnessed. The kids couldn't comprehend whether or not this foreign gentleman, who ran up to them screaming merit to the girl's drill of her power, didn't report her right away, and then didn't utter a word that made reason; was confused, amazed, or crazy. Whatever one it was, they didn't care to find out, they just wanted to get away from him.   
  
The girl, seeing a woman of authority in her life exit the building that would have to do for an orphanage, decided to leave this old man in his peace.  
  
"Mister, we have to leave," the girl tenderly pushed his hold off of her shoulder. As she did, she rushed dozens of thoughts and images to and from the mind of Luke Skywalker. When the transfer had been achieved, Luke shook his tousled hair and abided for the tiny seraph to speak, "You already know what you need."  
  
And that was it, and then she was gone.  
  
*******  
  
Chief of State Leia Organa Solo sat peacefully heeding her brother's problems galaxies away. She also listened for Han's dilemmas. Her spouse had never really opened up, knowingly, to her in the prior weeks and it troubled her. It appeared that he had a sensible explanation for her, he had known of his going to Cimmeria for quite some time. He never liked political missions or the thought of that watery planet that once was a bad memory in Solo's past. It never brought a lot of cheer to his family.  
  
The Solo children were all grown-up now, Jacen and Jaina were twenty years old and Anakin was eighteen, all of them extremely noted Jedi Knights. But right now, Leia's sons were off on significant business for the New Republic, and Jaina was assisting the reconstruction of a demolished metropolis on Rodain 7, while her husband, his bodyguard, and her brother were on business on Cimmeria. She was all alone on Coruscant dealing with the galaxy's problems.  
  
She wished she could have her adventurous little children and the daring smuggler-gone-rebel pilot back at her side right now. Inevitably, she was experiencing the 'empty-nest'. She noticed she always seemed to feel like this...especially when something big in the story of the Skywalker clan was about to happen. She hoped this wasn't the case again.  
  
To free herself from the syndrome, she would often reencounter her experiences, like aboard the first Death Star with old Obi-Wan, or rescuing the children from Vader's old prodigy, Hethrir, or the destruction of Prince Xixor and his colossal citadel. How she longed for that kind of adventure once more! Oh, just to be fighting for something, anything was better right now than being a ruler to thousands. She wondered if all the Jedi training she had would be of any good. She also questioned why so many of Luke's students now turned to the dark side, even though there was no leader for them to follow. The population of Dark Jedi rapidly increased in the past ten years or so, but they just disappeared off into the Qwexz System, and they usually never resurfaced. It was almost as if they were being called to this place, this place as black and terrible as a midnight that was never cleared away, and called to join the dark side.  
  
She lamented and took up her lightsaber that Luke had made for her so many years ago. She depressed a diminutive button on the metallic gray hilt of the ancient and beautiful weapon and a beacon of ivory emerald light shot from its end. She strolled over to a small pad on the wall next to the hatchway and spoke into it. She was bored a lot and decided to practice her limited training. "Access training program ZZ-98."  
  
A computer generated voice of a female came back at the princess, protesting against her choice, "Mistress, Is this a wise idea? Zeezee-Ninetyeight is one of your hardest levels of skill!"  
  
"I know."  
  
Her face stood, not flinching. She needed to see if she was still as powerful as when she first started training with her twin brother.  
  
"As you see fit." the computer created a holographic image of Leia, a much *younger* Leia, onto the middle of the room. As it slowly generated into a living clone, the real Leia walked over and touched the others hand. She waited until she could no longer penetrate the ghost and it became active matter.  
  
"Hello, Leia. Would you like it if I used a real saber?" The figure's tone was beautiful, just as when Luke or Han had first met her. She almost felt jealous of herself; it wasn't fair that youth was wasted on the young. The holographic Leia had noticed its opponent's weapon and wondered why it was not a replica.  
  
"No, you may use a replica." Leia waited for the image to produce an imitation and then they fought.  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter Two

Star Wars: The Dark Calling  
By R. C. Carpenter  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Above the towering buildings of coastal Dundusk, a wealthy Cimmerian trading center, a small gathering of locals sat in an equally diminutive apartment in the wealthiest section of the city. In the room, there was little else than business happening, ever. There was a long, thick table in the center near the one-way windows, surrounded by a dozen, maybe more, of chairs of the same wood, upholstered in a scratchy bluish twine. In these chairs sat the owners of the building, most getting on in their years, but a few younger partners were present at the lesser end. They each riffled through stacks of very important papers, sipping on an exotic tea mixture, mumbling a few words to his neighbor at intervals and basically keeping busy and out of trouble. For the moment.  
  
One, apparently the leader of the assemblage, rose cautiously from his seat at the head of the table, back facing the doors where two men stood at a silent guard. In his hand, balanced almost effeminately, he had perched a long spiral cigarette, which he sucked from now and then. He raised the pointed rod up to his sticky lips and then looked out across his throng of associates. After searching the vaguely familiar faces for a minute, he finally placed the stick inside his mouth, breathing deeply, killing his chance of long life with each inhale. He held the noxious gases inside his lungs, pulmonary phthisis flourishing in the crevices of the sensitive tissue, and then, seeing one of his sheep stray from the flock's directed attention, he blew the thick, blue cloud straight at the slick-haired young man. Instantly, the man spun to face his lecturer and coughed at the same time, trying to hide his distaste for the foul odorous cigarettes that were so often ingested around this office, lest he be expelled from the League.   
  
The smoking man gave a sinister smile, the cracks in his worn face breaking into canyons. He cleared his throat, at once receiving all eyes in the chamber, stopping dead in their tracks of busywork. His lanky body twisted to its seat, the ashes snapping off the stick's end. His face was lit up by the faint glow, but the slight rays did not touch his thoughts even remotely. The chair tilt back ever so carefully and the smoking man raised his legs up, crossing them at his shins on the glass edge of the table. The cuffs of his suit, an old fashioned attire used in some primitively fashionable countries and planets to symbolize status, money and power, ruffled up at the legs.   
  
Here on Dundusk, the suit was no laughing matter. The corners were sown tight together, a garish piece of fabric hung from the center of the neckline of a white button shirt and was tucked under the junction of the flaps of an outer jacket, sometimes adorned with a pocket or two due to stature and how many could be afforded. The ensemble was completed with straight-falling pants that were the same color as the jacket, and usually a nice set of footwear, somewhere in the vicinity of blacks or browns. No one would ever even dare to dream about wearing some excessively gaudy color like a deep red. Strict rules had been placed over the wearing of these suits; only men could wear them, only allowed to dye them black, brown, gray, or a navy blue, and only business men. The smoking man and his acquaintances just happened to *be* business men. Business men with great tastes, values, and minds.  
  
He stared at the ceiling, watched his fumes float to the top and then disintegrate. He amused himself with this for a while, testing his limits on the others. A handful began to fidget, and there were sporadic coughing, or throat clearing, a pen tap here or there. Still attentive to the ceiling, he began to speak slowly, making sure each imbecile before him understood every word, "Gentlemen, I commend you."  
  
His voice was nearly emotionless, it did not sound as old as it should, it should not sound as smooth either.   
  
Gradually, the chair released him from his fixation with the ceiling, his eyes staring forward and in no particular hurry to meet anyone else's as the seat repositioned itself at a stable post. He watched the men before him anxiously, hoping that one would snap from the suspense, would break the silence and question 'What! What did we do?!'   
  
A fresh faced man near the back of the room on the left side of the table was beginning to become agitated, whipping his head from one side of himself to the next. He raised his eyes to the smoking man's. The elder man's were black monstrous eyes that sunk into his skull and screamed from within their cage of flesh and bone. They met with the man's, a chill snapping throughout the other's body, forcing him to cringe as they ate away at his humanity.   
  
The smoking man inhaled his foggy deathtrap and sent coiled loops floating gracefully towards the young partner. "Yes, Agent Deuens, what is it?"  
  
"Ah, well, sir," he started with a shaky voice, "what exactly is it that you're commending us *for*?" He looked as if he was about to flinch away, like a child due for a reprimand, but for a reason they did not yet know. He tapped his pen in the palm of his hand nervously and watched the insect on the table that had caught the attention of a few others at the gathering.   
  
The smoking man leaned forward to place his elbows onto the table top. As they met with the wood, his right arm slammed down, palm open. The insect writhed underneath the heavy fist, agonizing in its last few moments. The man pulled his hand away, making a display of the squashed bug.   
  
"Tell me, Agent Deuens, what happens when one creature is bigger and more powerful than another creature?"   
  
"Well, sir, the larger creature will sometimes eat the smaller--" The cigarette wielding man raised his eyes to meet Deuens'. Motioning with those black pits, he glanced at the speck of crushed goo on the table. Deuens quickly retaliated, "But usually, sir, the big one. . . squashes the small one."   
  
"And why does the 'big one' destroy the 'small one'?" He asked sardonically, accenting the word small and big.   
  
"Because the small one is the big ones competition. . .?" He didn't sound too sure of himself.  
  
But the elder cracked a delighted smile none the less, "Precisely. That is why I have congratulated all of you today. For as of today, all of the League's 'small' problems have been eradicated."  
  
There was a general murmur of delight from the group. The bearer of the news slid back into his chair and position, his hands clasped a few inches below his chin. The others were smiling and patting each other, and themselves, on the back.   
  
"But!" his voice bellowed for a halt in the celebration and demanded attention, " But, there is one 'small' leak that must be taken care of before we can officially declare our independence from the Republic and rejoin the Galactic Empire."  
  
Two or three of the men squirmed in the scratchy seats, dreading returning to Imperial rule so swiftly. Among them the young Agent Deuens. The smoking man noticed this movement from his ranks and became the stern leader ready to deal out the punishment that he usually was around the office.  
  
"Can you sit here and sip your drinks, talk of your families and go home to your nice little houses and not realize that it is all here because the Empire allows it to be so?" his voice was filled with rage.  
  
He had been around during the Imperial rule, he was only a young man in his late twenties, full of eagerness to serve his Emperor, when his world was shattered. Palpatine's death and the fall of his kingdom had shook him so hard that he went on a rampage across four systems, bombing Rebel aligned cities, hiring bounty hunters to kill public officials in the streets, murdering and raping their wives and daughters after burial ceremonies. Others joined him when they heard of a lone, strange, unidentified man on a spree of hatred, following the Imperial code of sworn spite against those who would restore justice to the galaxy. Or at least that's how tabloids depicted him and his band of merry-men and their escapades.  
  
He had since settled down on Cimmeria, created his own *business* empire and converted his group into the senior partners of his government. The latest joiners were not so loyal to the ways he was raised up on, most not being alive during any time of mass Imperial rule. He was very cautious of them, even holding secret meetings with his trusted companions with whom he had been a marauder. But a scattering of things remained constant from his past life; his slavery to the Empire and his marital status.  
  
"Sir, you can't honestly think that with the Republic on the move to incorporate Cimmeria into their system at this very moment would be the appropriate time to dispel our propaganda onto the populous?" came the voice of an over confident elder near the shadows.  
  
The smoking man rotated towards the hefty gentleman to his right, stared closely at him, memorizing his face for when payroll came around. He placed the cigarette onto the notebook he had open in front of him. "Mr. Dwyer, would you explain this unnecessary outburst to the rest of us?" He was the only one allowed to talk, unless you were called upon, that was the way it worked.   
  
Dwyer cringed and sunk into his seat. "No, sir. I only thought that--"  
  
"You thought! I don't think so. It's quite evident that you did *not* think. But I shall recognize your statement," He turned to his left, "Ms. Szal, don't strike that from the records."  
  
From deep within the shadows, near the guard on the left, a young woman, maybe in her early twenties nodded and typed incessantly at an old fixture the smoker had bought back in the day. She had brown hair that had been highlighted red in an amateur fashion, and a shapely, curvaceous body. She was most pleasing to look at in this dank, ill-lit office. She raised her head to face the men, her eyes catching Agent Deuens' momentarily, "It's been added into the database, sir."  
  
"Very good, Ceda." He stated with much care and love behind his voice, a sound that had been absent from his tone only seconds ago.   
  
He was pleased at his leniency towards Dwyer and allowed himself a pleasant smirk, "Now, gentleman, perhaps some of you share Mr. Dwyer's opinion. That's very admirable, I assure you. But before I give you a chance to receive your admiration," he said rather quickly, so none of the workers would catch on in time to say two words, "I shall explain myself to you.  
  
"Here at C.G.H., it has come to my attention that this would be the most efficient time to spring upon them the news of our respectful decline to join their ranks, and that we are rather comfortable with our position as an Imperial affiliate." All said with great disdain.   
  
"I agree whole-heartedly, sir."  
  
"Yes, well put."  
  
"When do we get started?" came the usual shouts towards the egotistical maniac as he puffed away on his death card. He stood before them all, a giant in the business world, and began to circle the table like a buzzard around his dying to-be dinner.   
  
He spoke to them as he paced the room, "The leak which must be dealt with properly or not at all is that of the child we have been using to influence the actions of the other officials and businesses on Cimmeria. She is a valuable asset, but she is also a child. And children tend to talk when properly motivated. This is the concern that we should focus on, the silencing of Cadea Ciel." He inhaled his fumes and spewed them out at the shocked and almost disgusted faces before him.  
  
Ciel had been used by the League for over three years to read the thoughts of visitors to Dundusk. She had uncovered many conspiracies and even helped to capture a spy from the rival city of Vyopul. She was only nine years old and her youth allowed her to approach the men and women who would seek to destroy the League and it's goals. But lately, she had begun to doubt the beliefs of her masters and mentors. This had been a low lying scare, but had manifested into much more over the past two months as she learned of the upcoming visit from the Republic's ambassadors. She had indulged in History texts, learning about the Empire, and Palpatine, of Vader and his children, Luke and Leia, who had grown up to be a powerful Jedi, what ever that was, and the leader of this new government. She wanted to know more and had appealed to the League for more books on the subject. She was flatly denied access, being told that she could learn more when she was older, for a nine year old had no place in the worlds of politics.  
  
The smoking man knew of these men's bizarre affection for the tike and tried to use them to his benefit. He didn't know how to interpret their expressions, at least not the majority of them, they had become quite apt at masking their emotions. The younger partners, on the other hand, were open books. Their thoughts were laid out in neat little rows for him to forage through, their feelings were also the groups feelings, and that made him feel much better at knowing he had succeeded in hitting a soft spot.  
  
"Does this conflict with any of your schedules?" he asked snidely. All faces were aimed at the table so as not to have to confront the black eyed monster. He chose a random victim, "Mr. Hseim."  
  
Hseim glanced up, "Yes, your honor?"  
  
"Would you do us the favor of appointing three of us here," he knew that did not include himself, "to dispose of our troubles?" The smoker had washed his hands of the job, placed the blame of the child's death on this poor soul. Hseim's body would be found outside of town limits within days. It didn't matter whom he chose now, no matter who, Hseim would be the one they accused in the smoking man's place.  
  
Hseim rose to his challenge, hoping that the men he chose would not follow out the orders they were given. So many of them before had been given such unruly labors, they had talked of how they didn't want to do it, that they wouldn't if the time came again. The others who were not given the job talked of how they would've acted differently, that they were strong enough to defy their overlord. But all was untrue. Perhaps, among them, there was maybe one honorable, courageous young man who could step up to the challenge and withstand the torture and humiliation if they were caught resisting.   
  
Sparring the older partners, Hseim's gaze fell upon the youthful end of the table.  
  
In a loud pronounced voice he stated, "Toth the Younger, Agent Deuens, and Meola Xeujin."   
  
His fate had been declared.  
  
Toth glared at the partner, ready to strangle him if they ever met in a dark alley, his knuckles turning white. Meola just tapped his foot in agitation and rolled his eyes at nothing. The young agent, however, couldn't have been more pleased. Careful not to show this, he hung his head and tightened his eyelids to make like this was the worst possible scenario he could've fallen into. But in reality, this was the most wonderful thing he had ever heard! Now, the three would divvy up who would actually end up doing the dirty work. He was the youngest of the trio, he was bound to be the chosen one.  
  
The smoking man, unaware of the conspiracy with his own rising from Deuens' end of the table, gave a tight smile and appraised the sickly comrade's choices. "Very well. If this is all the business needed to be discussed today, you are all dismissed"  
  
Of course this was all the business to be discussed. Only he made up what was talked about and what was tossed aside. If it was from his wriggling mouth, it was talked about. Here it was. At home it was. He was in the habit of dismissing them early when one of them was about to die, this became only too routine.   
  
The business associates slid back their seats simultaneously, bowed down low, the shortest almost touching the table top. The smoking man rose, his body supported by the chair arm rests. He gave a nod to each of the men present and then spun in one magnificent sweep to the door. He tilted his head at the saluting guards on either side of the door and exited, each at a close distance behind or his personal protection.  
  
Those left packed their scant belongings, filed away papers in cabinets and with the secretary, and made a few calls to wives or friends. They became quite cheery now that the work day was over, even brushing aside Hseim's little misfortune. They laughed with each other, flirted with Ms. Szal, and looked forward to their next meeting with wealthy clients and such.  
  
After less than half an hour, the office was quiet and only two souls remained inside the darkened room, the stench of the smoking man's cigarettes and plots still lingering in the air. The man, somber in his mood, lifted his dusty black jacket off his chair, tucked some notes into the folds of it and under his arms. He put it on, his notes ruffled as he shoved his arm through the sleeve. He heard a faint clicking noise coming from the back room. When he turned to the door, it was lit up with a bleary blue light. Curiosity taking hold of the best of him, he edged over to look into the other room, his possessions draped loosely over his right arm.   
  
Away from her post and duties, at a rather overcrowded desk, sat Ms. Szal, typing up a furious storm of words. Though she was evidently not being paid for this awkward overtime, here she was, clicking away. Agent Deuens inched closer to her, her eyes fixated on the screen.  
  
Deuens strained his eyes to focus in on the words as they popped up on the screen. He was almost directly over her now and couldn't understand how she hadn't noticed his presence, or over-the-shoulder reading. Breathing became heavier and standing became more tiring as he tried to balance on one foot. It was as he fell that Ms. Szal noticed him, and went crashing to the floor with him.  
  
Flustered, she stammered out her words, "Why, what, where. . . what do you think you were doing!" She tried to keep her voice as low as possible.  
  
Equally dazed, Deuens could only mumble incoherently.  
  
When she finally got her wits about her, the secretary shove him off her, hiking up her skirt ever so slightly by the opposite reaction of the push. The young man caught notice of his strange luck and his face twisted into a boyish half-smile. "Why, Ms. Szal, I do believe your knickers are showin'." He stated in a mock western voice, a twisted smile stretching across his thin lips.  
  
Ms. Szal sneered at him and shoved her skirt down over her knees. She hoisted herself up, grasping hold of the desk. She held out her hand and Deuens took it, gladly.  
  
"Now explain yourself, Agent Deuens." She remarked flatly.  
  
The gray eyes widened and he mouthed his denial, shocked that she thought he was trying to do anything. Hadn't she seen the way the smoking man had treated him? He was a nothing, a nobody. Nobody of any circumstances, that is. He ran his fingers through his silvery blond hair, his eyes back in their sockets and looking towards the floor, away from the accusations of the assistant .  
  
She crossed her arms across her chest, ruffling the white blouse that covered her. She watched him shuffled his feet over the green shag rug. Impatient, she tapped her left foot, the heel of the shoe digging deeper into the fabric below. She coughed and he glanced up swiftly. Their eyes met, hers scorching for the truth.  
  
"Fine! All right!" he tossed his arms apart and gave in, "I wanted to see what you were typing, OK?"  
  
She nodded, disbelievingly. "Mm-hmm. Sure."  
  
Ceda lifted up the chair from the ground, the shirt floating off her skin an inch or so. The young man had to give in, it would make her feel better to if he didn't have to lie about what he was doing.   
  
He stretched his arms out to help her with the chair. She smiled her gratitude and allowed him to upright it. "Thank you."  
  
He gave a brash grin of success, too pleased to do such a small job. He wrapped his arms around the back of another chair and rolled it up next to hers. He sat down backwards on it and hung his head over the back of the cushion. "So what *are* you writing?"  
  
Ceda held back a smile, proud of her task. "This, Agent Deuens," she purposely used his title to annoy him, "Is the way that you *won't* have to kill Cadea Ciel."  
  
Interested, he raised his eyebrows and nodded approvingly. "And?"  
  
"*And*," she mocked, "you and I will be able to get off this intergalactic garbage heap unscathed. Free from everything that's here, everything that holds us down."  
  
"V'ry interesting. . . but where does Ciel come in?"  
  
"She's our ticket off."  
  
"Even better! So she's out of here before she even realizes what she's getting away from, what a great life she must have!" He beamed inside of the dark room. His face was a lantern of hope.  
  
"What wonderful guardians, too." She gave herself a moment to glow and then went back to typing.  
  
"So how are we getting off here exactly?"  
  
"Do you remember Dwyer's speech?" she brought up a site on the computer that held the county records of Cimmeria. She whizzed through the security with her override codes that she had been entrusted with when the smoking man had brought her to Dundusk from the orphanage that Ciel was staying at now. He had turned her into the planets smartest secretary. He also inadvertently turned her into a computer and mechanical genius. She retained everything she saw and heard and could've been a valuable asset, like Ciel, if she was younger and easily concealed like a child at meetings. But she wasn't. She was very beautiful against the common and when duty called upon her, she would be forced into elegant dresses and outfits of ambassadors, far too tight for her to enjoy keeping, but very enjoyable for any onlookers. She was also forced to dye her hair nearly every time she was used in one of the smoking man's little schemes.   
  
The site conformed into a deeper archive inside the official buildings. A three dimensional image spilled into their eyes. It was the seal of Cimmeria, a spherical dome of waters washing up against the inside of the ball. Etched lightly onto the surface of the orb was a holographic dolphin in mid-jump.   
  
They were in.  
  
"Allow me to present, the National Archives. In this database," she slipped a cartridge into a form-fitted slot near the base of the terminal, "Which I am now downloading, lays every recorded action taken by any one at any time on this entire planet."  
  
Deuens nodded, his silvery eyes swishing in the movement of the seal.   
  
Hoping to see if he was paying attention to what she was saying instead of just the pendulum hanging before him, she brought his records up behind it. "Let's see what Agent Deuens was doing this morning before he came to work."  
  
He continued to nod his agreement, unaware of anything.  
  
"Okay. . ." Her fingers glided over the keys and a video recording of Deuens flashed onto the screen.  
  
"Hey! Where'd it go?!" He shouted out as his fixation was wiped from the monitor. He was still oblivious to what was going on around him.  
  
Ceda rolled her eyes and began to play the recording.  
  
On the screen, a blurry blue image of Deuens focused in as Ceda increased the magnification terms one hundred percent. The security camera that was over five stories up, zoomed in on the specific area.   
  
"Freeze." demanded the typist. The computer immediately halted its playback. "Look at the picture. What do you see?"  
  
Deuens complied and leaned forward. He studied the frame momentarily.   
  
With a saucy grin and announced his findings, "A good looking, single, working class citizen."  
  
She glared at him, "No, not exactly what I was looking for."   
  
She raised her right hand up to the glass and pointed to the jacket pocket that was visible. "Look right there. Do you see it?"  
  
"No, what am I looking for again?"  
  
"In your right breast pocket you have two tickets to the Tikku vs. Faix fight tonight. You also have on you a wallet stuck loosely into your bag, see?"  
  
He did. "What's so big about that? Lots of people have their wallets in their bags?"  
  
Ceda smirked, "Ah, yes. But not everyone has tickets for the professional fight tonight. And anyone who might happen to want to rough you up has the perfect opportunity to do so when you go. From this footage, they can also learn that you carry your wallet out in the open, this can be stolen easily and make a killing look like a robbery gone wrong."  
  
The room was silent for a second as Deuens stared at Ceda.  
  
"Are you telling me not to go to the fight tonight, or are just trying to get me to fork over my ticket?"  
  
She groaned and went back to typing. "No, I don't mean any of that. My point is that *if* someone *wanted* to kill you, or whatever, they have the information that they need all right here."  
  
"Yah," he said, "But not everybody has access to this kind of stuff. . . right?"  
  
"But I do."  
  
He was beginning to worry that maybe she was going to try to kill him. "I knew you had a point coming in here somewhere."  
  
"Yup, somewhere." She searched through records, looking at most for only a split second as they whirled by on her computer.   
  
"There are people here, now, on Cimmeria who can help us. They've tried to be secretive about being here," she smiled slightly, "But nobody can hide from random cameras. Cameras don't lie. If we can find where they came in, what docking bay or what hotel they're staying in, maybe, we can find them here." Then she saw them. "Freeze!"  
  
There on the screen, though slightly distorted, were the images of two men and a tall, hairy fuzzball.  
  
The Republic's ambassadors.   
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter Three

Star Wars: The Dark Calling  
By R. C. Carpenter  
  
Chapter Three  
  
"I'm telling you, Han, this kid was amazing! She picked up a kid and the rocks at the same time. . . she couldn't have been older than ten or eleven. Then, she did a mind transfer. . . *with me*! I never thought a child of that age could be so strong in the Force, and without the training, too." Luke paced back and forth across one of the rooms that had been prepared for them.   
  
He knew that sometimes children could tap into parts of their powers at young ages, like Jaina and Jacen, but rarely did they already know how to consciously manipulate it to do their bidding. But of course, there was Anakin, and he somehow knew automatically just how to use the invisible entity.   
  
Yet one thing bothered the Jedi, when the girl had touched his hand, why didn't he feel such a strong presence of the Force? He hadn't even felt the slightest sign it was present when she transferred her thoughts. Could she some way know how to cover the energy, if that was possible? Or was there something other than the Force, something he had yet to come into contact with?  
  
"If she was all that powerful, why didn't you ask her to go train?" Han really had no intent of raising Luke's spirits after he just up and left him to deal with that damn tour guide of a guard. He flopped down on a fluffy white couch that had been stuffed with Conokra feathers and tufts of cotton. He folded his hands behind his head and his feet fell upon a footstool made of the same silken material as the couch. This would be the highlight of his day for the next week, he decided.  
  
Luke opened a gapping hole that was made of an elegant crystal and was artfully crafted into a spherical shape with downy designs plastered through out its glistening body. He peered out the open window and scanned the panoramic view across the vast Cimmeria.  
  
To his dismay, the orphanage was not in sight.  
  
Han secretly wished he could help his longtime friend in some way, but he hadn't even seen the child Luke was so interested in. Lucky for him, he had been deeply involved with a political figure and a conversation, both of which he found quite dull. He reached over the edge of the couch and grab a handful of salt-water taffy, direct from Bakura, and shoved them one by one into his waiting mouth.  
  
"Why don't you go back and ask?" Han's first question had deemed no answer so he tried again, this time with a slow mocking tone to it and a pile of sticky sweet goo.   
  
Luke shot a glance at the Corellian that said 'Why don't you?' But he took it back.  
  
"Maybe," he halted in his words and then started again in his spent and work-worn voice, "But I don't think it's up to her. The owners of the institution won't give her up at the drop of a hat. I mean, just because I walk up to them and say 'Hi, I'm Luke Skywalker, I'd like to take this girl off your hands 'cause she displayed a lot of potential in a field I specialize in, and I'd like to have her come and train in the Force!' Well, for one thing, they'd probably think I was lying about being myself, only a handful of people in the entire galaxy know we're here. And. . ."   
  
He took a deep breath, "And I don't think she's supposed to use her powers. When I talked to her, she seemed scared that I might 'turn her in', whatever that is. I think I might be better off just. . . adopting."  
  
Han nearly choked on his candies. Could Luke be serious? Could he really want to take up raising a child? He knew that Leia and Han had a hard enough time raising their own kids, let alone rearing a child that wouldn't be his and probably would be scared to death of all the people who would crowd around any time she entered into public just because who she was. Han should know, he had that problem plenty of times, didn't even get to see the twins until they were two.  
  
"You gotta be kiddin' me!" He shot forward in his seat, disbelief covering his anger now. "No! There's *no* way you would want a kid," *Trust me, I know what I'm talkin' about,* he thought.  
  
He eased from the cushions, "I mean, don't get me wrong, I love Jacen, and Jaina, and Anakin, but," he paused for effect, "kids are a full time job! You have to feed 'em and clean 'em and. . ."   
  
Luke cut Han short, he knew where this was leading; feed, clean, put to sleep, walk 'em. . . they were just like pets, only they lived longer. He raised a hushed finger and shut his eyes showing he didn't want to hear it.   
  
Han, determined to change his mind, like he had done so many times before to him, continued, smoothing his words to ease Luke's refusal.  
  
"All I'm sayin', kid, is give it some time, think it over. . ." he had added the demeaning 'kid' to his speech intentionally, hoping that it would strike Luke that he himself was only a kid, or at least in Solo's eyes. Han paused for a minute, disgusted in his next choice of words, "*Discuss* it with someone. Call Leia, she'll tell ya!"   
  
Luke smiled slightly, amused with Han's reaction, ignoring his attempt to ruffle his feathers. He let out a short mumbled snicker. Han was something else, he'd give him that. He turned back.  
  
Han was standing still, his hands clasped in front of him in mock plea.  
  
"Please?"  
  
He paused, stewed few a minute on the plea. He gave in to make Han happy.  
  
"Oh, all right. I'll think for a little longer," he added quickly, "But I don't think it'll change my mind, I'm pretty set on this."  
  
Solo's attitude changed suddenly from utter despair, where he would go to any length to stop Luke, to a friendly urge.  
  
"Ya, sure, think about it. If this is something you really want, though, I'll be behind you in full. . . Leia, too!" He knew he couldn't speak for Leia, but it sounded good. Besides, he figured if Luke wanted to adopt, he was positive his wife would be behind her brother just as much as he was. Although what in the name of the Maker would possess him to even consider, he'd never know.  
  
"That's always good to know." Luke gave a genuine smile and he went back to the window.  
  
He needed to find that girl She was an obsession now, all that he could think about. But he needed an excuse that would get past a pirate. *Oh, excuse me!* he corrected himself, *Ex-pirate.*  
  
Han, seemingly believing his work there was done, moved towards the door in a swift motion.  
  
"I'm, uh, gonna go check and see if Chewie fixed those blinking lights in the *Falcon* yet and check in on Wedge." the door slid open and the tall man rounded the corner.   
  
He returned a second later, his right arm coming around the wall to stop the hatch from closing. He grinned menacingly at his friend, and leered at him, "But I'll be back."  
  
Luke manually picked up a stuffed pillow near him and, with a pity-smile on his face, shoved it towards Han, hitting the wall nowhere near him. Han ducked anyway, of course, laughed and left. Luke had bad aim, he determined, he'd stick to good old fashioned Force manipulation.  
  
When the star pilot had left the hall, Luke peered around the corner.  
  
No one.  
  
And with, that he left for the orphanage.  
  
******  
The halls of the great Imperial palace were lined with metallic grayed walls that amplified the noises from around. Stiffly, a figure the size of a man, walked down the picturesque aisle, its golden skin bouncing glistening streaks from the rays of light let forth from the ceiling's skylights above the majestic walkway.   
  
Behind the glossy creature came a smaller stubby tripodal machine. It glanced around the vast corridors and every so often he would let out an awe-struck whistle or beep that were comprehendible only to the counterpart.  
  
"Come along, Artoo. We must inform Mistress Leia the good news!" The droid spun to his stout friend and called him to come as he waved his flaxen limb rigidly and stood still a moment to let the smaller droid catch up. The little R2 unit let out a few impatient discords, then protruded his third wheel and rolled alongside the uneasy See-Threepio. Threepio took to his task at hand and moved down the meandering footpath to find his present mistress, Leia.  
  
As they neared Leia Organa Solo's chamber, the sounds of a quarrel could be heard from within, "Oh, no! Artoo! Quickly, open the door! Hurry, we have to help her!"  
  
The little arm that had protracted from Artoo's torso, slowly connected into one of the sockets at the base of the door that were made specifically for astrochem droids. He felt skeptical of Threepio's judgment, he could almost feel the returning pain of an electrocution surging through his slowly deactivating circuits. Ever sense the protocol droid had inadvertently suggested that Artoo try and translate with an electrical outlet, he was always a little more than precautions when he was ordered to stick any of his appendages into an unknown hole. Fortunately for him, he spent most of his earlier years on Coruscant memorizing every outlet and what it was. This one did infact lead to a computer terminal.  
  
He rotated the arm around twice and the door slid open. Inside, a startled Leia sprung back from her fright as she saw See-Threepio 'magically' originate out of thin air, followed by a more announced Artoo-Deetoo. She must had been not fully entrusted in the Force, see where she didn't even realize they were coming. But she couldn't blame the Force, after all, these were droids, not people.  
  
"Princess Leia, are you all right?!" his programmed voice hit a high note, higher when he saw what happened as the princess looked away from her training.  
  
While the holographic Leia's enemy was preoccupied, she lashed out at the Jedi. Leia, thrown off by Threepio, tried to turn back to block the slice. But the moment she had spared to the droid gave the programmed woman enough time to successfully swing her saber. The replica went through Leia's right hand, the one that was up in fighting position, and sent the real saber flying across the floor from the magnetic shock, deactivating as it went.  
  
"Ahh!" Leia crashed down to her knees, clutching her throbbing wrist in her lap. Though the replica was not set to go through any form of matter, only send any weapon that might be near the area hit soaring off, it was set to disturb the area that was struck, and so the woman was in great pain.  
  
Threepio backed up, seeing his mistake of intruding on the sword play. But little Artoo didn't think in the same way as the human like droid. Then again, since when did he think the same way as a protocol droid who was fluent in over six million forms of. . .   
  
He approached his wounded companion and let go a slow concerned beep. The Jedi turned up and smiled, weakly, at her tiny comrade and decided to go have a talk with her other droid. She stumbled upward, turning to the glinting droid that was apparently quite terrified.  
  
*Good, he should be. When I get my hands on a good metal welder. . . No, I can't do that. Anger, it leads to the Dark Side, remember, Leia?* She decided that she was well off, and one little explosion at the most annoying droid in the entire galaxy wouldn't make her cross-over to join the dark calling.  
  
"Oh dear. . ." he tilted his head over to his colleague who had since returned to his side, "Artoo, I don't think we should have come in."  
  
Artoo made a sarcastic toot that stated his agreement, swaying back and forth in a nodding motion.  
  
Leia lifted her good hand and raised a threatening finger to Threepio's stone-blank face. Her mouth dropped open, ready to begin its mad quest, but instead she took a deep breath, murmured an angry, yet incomprehensible, insult and stormed out the door, growling in a foreign tongue the whole way.   
  
"That didn't go very well at all." said a confused Threepio.  
  



	5. Chapter Four

Star Wars: The Dark Calling  
By R. C. Carpenter  
  
Chapter Four  
  
Nobody cared about the space pirates floating around Yuqing Zhan, a slum of a town in the country of Zalocha, on the planet of Næhe. The streets were dirty. The people were dirty. Most importantly, the money was dirty.  
  
The more convicts and gangster that hit and ran the streets, the better. It was a time and place of frivolous spending, gaudy outfits, and little morals. There was no particular outlaw that called the shots around here. Things were rather run in a warlord fashion, with sections of the town they used as their own. Some of the older and wiser lords had transformed their sector into profitable businesses or well-to-do entertainment houses. While still other leaders stuck to their roots of spice, blasters and loud music.   
  
A man dressed in worn-out tatters walked down the alleyways, a bulging parcel tucked neatly under his left arm. His hair was long and stringy, the gray hardly noticeable beneath the months without a bath. He turned into a dilapidated basement of a fallen in building complex. The door creaked and hundreds of furry animals scattered with the barely changing light rays, their feathery tails convulsing to find safe passage around the rotten floor boards. The sturdy boots that he was wearing pressed down on half a dozen or so of the frightened creatures, killing them instantly from the pressure and weight.  
  
He lumbered over to a makeshift table and dropped the parcel onto it. Dust flew off in many directions, causing the man to begin to sneeze. He arched his neck, raising both cupped hands to his face. He sneezed.   
From deep within the room, a shadow moved slightly off it's perch towards the man, "G'blesh you."  
  
He turned his face towards the voice, his hands still up and his mouth still open from the sneeze.  
  
The woman, his love interest for the time being, walked towards him, the cat towards the mouse. She rose a gently hand up to his face and stroked his hair behind his ear. His face began to regain its composure and he let out a sneer at the violet hair girl.  
  
"What're you doin' here still? I thought you left on that cruiser fer Braaten yesterday." He said in a confused and hurt voice.  
  
"You'd only like to think that, wouldn't you? Evidently, I never got on the ship. There had been rumor that there were spies on it. Spies looking for you, love." She bent her knees to sit on the crate, her torso and eyes angling directly up at him.  
  
He kicked aside another handful of the furry creatures and sat down next to her on the cot near the table. He needed to be as close to his package as possible. Though he did have a peculiar fondness for the girl and he had begun to like her for her cunning and willingness to manipulate and deceive, he did not yet trust her with his 'business transactions'. He thought it very daring of this elegant young beauty to roam the streets during the night hours. Undoubtedly amusing toward the outside viewer, the pair was happily engrossed in each other's heists and tomfoolery.   
  
"Lookin' fer me, eh?" He got up from his cot and clutched his bundle tight to his chest. He knew why they were searching the planet for him and what he held to him was most likely the reason behind the sudden upgrade in security.  
  
A disruption was heard from a cubbyhole in the secluded subdivision of the two level residence. Apathetic to the clamor, the girl glimpsed at the indistinct area with her piercingly cerulean eyes. Another young man, the elder's sibling, stretched his sore arms towards the ceiling. His mouth gaped into a consumed yawn and his eyes pirouetted inside his head as he attempted to spring away from the mattress. His feet stumbled, catching hold of the bedding he had only momentarily tossed aside onto a crate. With the force of all his slumbering weight, he began descending the three steps between him, the girl and his brother.   
  
The facial expression on the others remained a blank stare even when the fallen lad raised his smudged face up in a wide toothy grin. Stumbling forward, he pulled himself up on the box that the girl sat on. His words were bouncy and jovial, cut short by an unnoticeable stutter he always developed around his brother and his brother's girlfriends, "Hey, guys, what's up?"  
  
They ignored him as he attempted to assemble a conversation and make light of his incident. The girl glimpsed past him and glanced at the carton he had floundered upon. She stood and traipsed towards the cinnamon stippled receptacle. The duo stared flirtatiously and despairingly at her as her perfect, trim figure swayed over to the torn piece of board.   
  
She hunched over and draped her open-palmed hands into the container. High-pitched squeaks erupted from inside the paper chamber as she pulled up a fuzzy kitty-monkey. Its fur bristled up as the girl grabbed it by the scruff of its neck. The creature's head swung back in an attempt to bite the hand that fed it. She dropped it into her arms on its back and it instantly became quiet, helpless to stop itself from falling asleep.   
  
"Well, Dephja, what happened to checking up on your sources?" her voice rang true to her anger.  
  
He half-grinned, half-winced away from her. "You see, Feliscyia, that's what I wanted to tell you..."  
  
"After you took a nice long nap of course."  
  
"Yes, after that." He was caught red handed, a miserable thing to happen to any good criminal.   
  
Feliscyia moved her hands over the furry ball as it purred softly.   
  
"You see, I was on my way to Baz Farouk'El's when I was stopped at the transport and I got..."  
  
Dephja's brother broke in with a twang, "Y'got scared shitless, that's what happened."  
  
Feliscyia's lips curled into a half-smile at the commentary, "Aw leave him alone, Mark. He's only just a kid." She turned back to the kid, "But why didn't you try and have some one else go ahead for you to check things out? I could a been killed because of you."  
  
"Gee, I'm sorry, Liscyia. I didn't know that the law was after Mark until today when they stopped me. I thought that he was just in trouble again, but did you know they got people all the way from the Republic and the old empire staking out some a his old hideouts." He turned to Mark, "Man, what have you got that's so important that they gotta send out half a National Security after ya?"  
  
Mark shied away from this question with a gruff look of disgust flung into his brother's face. He grunted and stormed off into the other room to grab some food.   
  
Feliscyia shrugged and continued to stroke the downy fur of the cat.  
  
Dephja yawned in boredom, "I'm hungry, let's go grab some grub."  
  
From in the make-shift kitchen, Mark's voice resonated into the main room, "Sounds good ta me."  
  
He came back into the main room, the package now gone from his arms and placed in some hidden area he usually kept all of his other treasures of battle. He had put on a happy face and was rubbing his hands together in anticipation. The kitchen hadn't been restocked in over a week since he had been home.  
  
The girl and the younger brother muddled over the man's bizarre enthusiasm. Dephja struggled to his feet, clutching the nearest object tightly, and skipped off after Mark, "Hey, wait up fer me!"  
  
Feliscyia, taking advantage over her free moment, sneaked into the kitchen. She opened a small handlink and turned a knob ninety degrees to the left. She raised it slowly and quietly to her lips and spoke softly, "Ground Zero on Næhe in Yuqing Zhan requesting hoverport main control room over the fourth moon, do you read, over?"  
  
She waited silently in a long terrifying moment, hoping that neither Mark nor Dephja would return to have her catch up. Finally, the static broke and the clear voice of a woman answered, "Maeda Zgonis calling Ground Zero, we have received you, over."  
  
She sighed a slight relief and continued to talk.  
  
"This is Feliscyia Cygne on Næhe for Gvan Tlkov investigating the reports on one Mark Tibias and Brother Dephja Tibias. Status report to commence. Over."  
  
The woman's voice suddenly dropped and she spoke hastily, "Cygne? For Tlkov?"  
  
"Correct..."   
  
Feliscyia felt her stomach tie in a knot as the woman on the other end said what came next. "I'm terribly sorry, Miss Cygne, Commander Tlkov was killed in battle three days ago."  
  
She dropped to the floor, the comlink still grasped in her hand as it went limp at her side. For a moment, she couldn't see anything that was going on, she couldn't feel herself. It was almost as if she was out of her body and watching from the other side of the room.  
  
Reality set in and she regained thought of her mission. So what if the commander of the operation was dead? He died an honorable death and now she must continue his work so that his memory may live on. So what if they were to be married after this business? She was still young and the galaxy was full of available war-heroes willing to have an equally driven wife. She didn't even have to get married, she was almost past Lieutenant.   
  
"Is there someone who has taken the Commander's place at this time that I may speak to about the importance of the success of this mission?" She articulated her every syllable, regaining her edge on standards and rules.  
  
The other end was quiet and then a rugged and tired voice burst over it. "Commander Leszek Tarca. Go ahead."  
  
Feliscyia smiled widely and spoke with a hint of relief, "Commander Tarca, Ground Zero on the Tibias case."  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"The brothers have left their apartment and have headed out to eat. I am to join them in a moment." She continued to smile, wondering when the new commander would realize who she was.  
  
"Status report on the vital information...um...Sergeant?" His voice told her that he recognized hers but that he was unsure of her military ranking at this point.  
  
"Lieutenant, Commander Tarca." She corrected him, "The Tibias brothers are definitely involved in something. The elder, Markus, is in charge and Dephja is merely left in the dark and pulled along for the ride...and the blame."  
  
"Any news on the merchandise?"  
  
"There has been some alluding to the stolen goods by brother Markus, not a word from Dephja. There was a strange package in the possession of Markus this evening when he returned home a while ago. Suggest sending a squadron down to investigate the property for the content of said package."  
  
"Copy that. Very good, Lieutenant. We'll see you up here when your mission is complete. Meanwhile, keep those two out of the building for at least three hours."  
  
She nodded, even though he could not see her doing so, "Yessir."  
  
She was about to shut the link down when his voice cracked across it for one last note.  
  
"Oh and Cygne..."  
  
She smiled, "Yes Les?"  
  
"Watch your back, ok? I want to welcome you home personally up here."  
  
"Shall do, Commander. Over and out."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter Five

Star Wars: The Dark Calling  
By R. C. Carpenter  
  
Chapter Five  
  
Lando Calrissian had a certain air about him as he swaggered into the Brox Kaled District. He was handsome and well off, the sort of man that everyone wanted to be friendly to, especially since *his* friends were highly ranking NR officials. All the patrons stared over at him; his aura of good-hearted jokes, fine drinks, and beautiful women made him all the more appealing. He had followed his buddies, Han, Luke and Chewbacca, to Cimmeria under the hopes of getting in a few trading contracts with local stock dealers, but his main objective was to watch out for the two humanoids who were bound to fall into some sort of catastrophe along the way. He bowed his head unnoticeably towards one of his companions, "Watch out for any bad news, they'll try to real us in with one of their get-rich-quick scams that this place is notorious for."  
  
The bald headed man to his left nodded his agreement silently and continued to stare straight ahead, very out of character for the happy tourist he was playing.   
  
Cimmerian docking bay customs were easily passed, giving Lando the impression that any illegals could effortlessly slip through the system and never be found again, free to move on to their next rendezvous. Off the top of his hairless head, Lando's partner had already spotted three aliens who were currently prohibited from this sector.  
  
"Turn here." Lando extended his arm towards a hallway to their right and sidestepped past his companions.  
  
The hallway was, in fact, a reputable business of the NR that Calrissian had been told to check in on while he was visiting. The business was well kept, as were the managers, an elderly couple that lived above the offices whom Lando had known a while back and was slightly glad to have to pay a call on. The couple were informants. Working from the inside of the gutters selling false info to any scurvy knave that would take it, they caught many of the very illegals that they had spotted along the way.   
  
The tall, dark man entered the small office in the cellar of the couple's home, knocking on the open door as he did.   
  
"Hello?" he said with a smile.  
  
He looked around the unlit room, his eyes straining as they adjusted to the pale light emanating from the edge of the shut door of another room towards the back. As the light focused in around him, he could begin to feel the outline of the furniture, the desks, the papers and antiquities. The many years of work and refurbishing lay to each and every corner of the room and the building itself. The entire motif of the office was jovial and open, inviting.   
  
Now, as Lando called out for the lights, he could see what the room truly was. Dilapidated. Toppled. Torn through with a razor blade and burned up in a fury of unknown tension and outrage.  
  
"Melo! Cwalina!" Lando shouted towards the door. He stepped over a knocked down chair, it pained him to see the tragedies of the poor couple who, hopefully still, lived here. He stumbled past stacks of scattered papers, no doubt reports they had yet to file. He reached out in full stretch for the panel to open the door.   
  
The door slid open itself.  
  
Startled by finding someone behind the door, the woman flipped out her blaster and steadied herself, aiming directly at the ambassador's forehead. Lando slowly raised his hands towards his head, his stomach clenching tightly as he tried to remain balanced on the edge of an over-turned couch. The woman, seeing his surrender, tossed him up onto his feet. His muscles released from the anguish. She glared at the other men with him and aimed the set-to-kill blaster at them as she quickly checked Calrissian's pockets with her right hand, not looking at him, training her thoughts on the others.  
  
Finding Lando's lack of weaponry acceptable, she pulled back from his side and shuffled through a desk drawer, her eyes still not moving from her captives. She felt along the inside of the drawer and found what she sought. She pulled out a second blaster and aimed that one at the dark skinned man to her right.  
  
She spoke, "I don't know what else you could want, but we gave it all to you last week. You can't suck us dry if we don't have anything to bleed, you dolts."  
  
The other men in the room, their hands now brought above their heads as well, began to smile ever so slightly. She caught hold of their facial expression. "What? You think it's funny, huh? Well," she moved towards Calrissian, "It wouldn't be too funny if I shot your boss's face right off to the Black Hole sector, right?"  
  
She snagged her long fingernails into the dark, curly strands of his hair and eased his head back, forcing his mouth open in pain. She rammed the barrel of the blaster past his teeth and nearly choked him. The three others whipped out their own, more upgraded, weaponry and brought them to different positions on the woman, no trace of fear on their faces. It appeared almost routine.  
  
The woman's face dropped for only a second and then she smiled down at her gun-chewing captive, "They seem kind of relaxed and sure of themselves, huh?"  
  
Lando forced a movement of his lips around the cylinder and tried to gurgle up a reply.  
  
The woman let go of his hair and the blaster and stepped away to sit on the upset couch. She brought her knees close together, squeezing them tightly. Her head bobbed down in abandonment, the locks of extremely curled cerulean and green hair shielding her sapphire eyes from the faces. She laid her hands on top of the other and awaited her fate.  
  
"Well, what are you going to do now, hmm? Let me rot here? Or are you finally going to let me die like you should've a long time ago?" Her voice was now frail and hurt, not like the angry young woman's they had just gotten a mouthful of.   
  
Lando's reaction surprised even him as he lunged towards her, both of his strong hands gripping into the armrests of the tufted couch. "Now just you listen to me, we're not here to take you anywhere and after that fancy attack on me, I wouldn't be shocked if anyone else would have killed you. But like I said, we're not here to do that. Believe me, I want to right now. I want to take this blaster," he raised the one he had pulled from his mouth up to her face, "And shove it down your throat and see how you like it, but I'm not going to."  
  
She raised her head and stared at the other men, careful not to give herself even the slightest chance to make eye contact with Lando. Her far off voice came again, "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
The three guards stepped farther into the room and began to pick up scattered objects. The woman watched their every move as they did so. In return, Lando watched her, making extra sure that she didn't try to get up and kill him again. He put down the blaster on the edge of the couch nearest him.  
  
She brushed aside a strand of emerald hair behind her ear to glance out of the corned of her eye at the dark skinned man next to her. She studied his scowl as he glared at her. She tried to hide her fear, mask the devastation, but she was already caught, why not just break down entirely while she still had the chance.  
  
Her dry eyes immediately were raged with salty droplets and her whole body began to convulse with terror. Lando grew only slightly piteous. He sat down next to her and began to talk, "Where's Melo and Cwalina?"  
  
The woman's face was soaking up the drops and she whimpered out a reply, "I thought you were here to take me," came her excuse for the attack, "I don't know who you are, why you're here and now you start asking about my parents!"  
  
She became hysterical.  
  
Lando's mind took in the information. He'd never known that the Seukler's had a daughter, but it didn't surprise him to find out now, they were very secretive and protective of their personal life. No doubt they kept the woman a secret in her younger years due to their risky business. Now she was her own person and was out to make her own hairy transactions.   
  
Lando lifted her chin, "You're their daughter? What happened? We need to know. We're here from the New Republic on a routine check as ambassadors. I'm Lando Calrissian. I can help if you tell us everything you know."  
  
The woman looked up at him. She wanted to glare at him for making almost light of her situation. She looked at the now sitting guards. They squirmed uneasily in their scruffy civilian outfits. She spoke in her head, phrasing things correctly to say what she wanted to the best way she could. She wrung her hands together nervously.   
  
Her hair slid off her ear and she brushed it back again. "They were taken by the Imperials. They came here a few weeks ago and tore our home apart. They took food and goods and money and bank-statements. They took our pet. They took my parents. They were going to take me, but they decided against it. They slammed me against a wall and left me for dead."  
  
Lando felt only the slightest hint of pity for her, but she was obviously able to take care on her own. This had been greatly displayed by her uncanny ability to make a guest feel at home. She shattered at the mention of the New Republic and this bothered Lando immensely. He leaned to her ear and whispered coarsely, "Why did they take them...do you think?"  
  
She knew he was mocking her, that he didn't really want to believe her. That was the truth, though, and if he couldn't accept the truth, then he wasn't worthy of it. Her blood ran cold with the sound of his voice. It was very threatening and he meant it to be, no doubt. She clenched her teeth together, bitter and soured. The harsh blue eyes snapped at Lando like a scorpion.  
  
"I don't know why they'd want to take them, Mister Calrissian. I'm not one of them. I don't know how they think. But maybe you do. So maybe you'd like to help me with that question." She rose from the sofa and took measured steps towards the back of the room. The guards followed her with only their eyes. At this point, a second attack would be inconceivable.   
  
She crossed her arms and slid into the darkness. She blanketed herself with the corner and tried not to make it too obvious that Lando was the one she had fixated upon.   
  
She was silent with the room for a very long time. Then she spoke out, her voice quite and rebellious, "I'm not sorry, really. But I'll say it to make you happy."  
  
Lando removed himself from the couch, a look of sheer disgust on his face. His mouth was half-open in amazement from her comment. His eyebrows were raised far beyond normal. He walked over to the shadows in less than two second.  
  
His sarcasm was overdone, "Oh, well, that's just great. Lovely apology, miss. I accept it with open arms and can't wait for your next compliment."  
  
She snickered and angled her face to the floor. He shook his head and flung his arms into the velvet-thick air. "I don't know why I bother!"  
  
He stormed over to his guards, "Come on, let her wallow in her misery. We're not going to be much of a help. It's evident we're not *wanted,*" he stole a look at the woman, "around here."  
  
Lando disappeared through the door, the sunlight glinting on the fragments of particles that were hung in the air. The bald tourist snapped his fingers and ordered the others to follow, "Let's go."  
  
Without another word, they left the blue-green haired woman and her hatred to infest the whole apartment. There was no sound as she slid down the side of the wall. She brought her knees close to her face and placed her hands over her eyes. She sobbed for over half an hour before she was satisfied with her lack of control.  
  
She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt and sucked back her feelings. She gained her balance and walked to the still open door. She left her blaster on the couch, she had plenty of others where that one came from.   
  
She came up to the apartment sector of the building. This had been her parents' home since before she was born. It had been in her father's family since before he was. Now, something had happened. The New Republic had promised great things such as freedom and better lives. Hers had only gone downhill. She remembered when Melo and Cwalina had been a very loving couple who's only folly was that they were spies for the NR.   
  
That had been their downfall, she had decided long ago. The NR was nothing but trouble. They thought they were doing they were doing the right thing. Just like the Empire had its followers thinking the same thing. This is the New Republic, this is the right way. This is the Empire, this is the best way. The Rebel's, back in their glory days of the Battles, had been very active and fought for what was right and what was just. They had stood up for who was stepped on and who was overpowered or slave labored. Now, they had become nearly just as bad. Sure they didn't have an egotistical maniac Jedi thinking he was the supreme being and thought that everyone should bow down to his whim. They had something much better; democracy.  
  
She talked with herself up in the kitchen. She carried a very heavy accent and mimic as she spoke slowly to the walls, "Why would we want some chubby, lazy, no good Diplomat with a lot of ethical problems who'll just end up fightin' legal battles instead of running the government..."  
  
She walked to a mirror and looked at herself as she said it, "When we already got one!?"  
  
The recitation reminded her of a fat cat up on Capital Hill that was always making advancements to move in on her end of the city to build a convenience area. She didn't like him. She didn't like him at all.  
  
She breathed in heavy, looked around the room, and walked back into the kitchen. She gripped the handle to the cryo-fridge and pulled on it, her palm being scanned as she placed her fingers over the notch. The freezer let out a sigh of release as cold air spilled onto the floor. She reached for a soda and then shut its door. She cracked open the lid and brought the syrup up to her lips. It flowed down her throat and cooled off her mouth.   
  
She placed the still full soda on a counter and walked into the living quarters. It was a mess. Clothes were strewn everywhere and half-eaten bags of food laden the table in the middle of the area. A small holotube sat at a far end of the room behind a gigantic pile of clothes.  
  
She sat down on a floating cushion in front of the terrific mess. She looked around, watched the stillness, and got up again. She walked down the hallway towards her bedroom at the end. The door was constantly left open, there was no one else to invade her privacy in the house anyway.   
  
In stark contrast to the majority of the rest of her unkempt home, she kept her room in perfect condition. Everything was stacked neatly on shelves or files away I dresser drawers in her various bureaus. The bed was made. The floor could be seen. Trash was nonexistent. She smiled to herself, glad that something in her life, despite how insignificant it may be in retrospect, was under control and manageable.   
  
She stepped over to a table and opened the single drawer it had on its front side. Inside was a large assortment of papers. These were the documented reports from the security cameras the day her parents were taken by the Imperials.   
  
The portfolio also included a few legal papers allowing her to keep the rights to the house, no matter how far in debt she became on her bills and mortgage. She placed the papers on the top of the desk and sat down at the metallic gold chair before her. She touched a thin rod that was on the tabletop gently and a bright beam illuminated the room.   
  
She scanned the documents from the report and glanced at the face shots taken by the cameras. Most of the Imperials wore white gas masks and other such nonsense that made it very difficult to get a positive ID. She took a piece of paper off of a pad from her right. She grabbed a writing utensil and started writing down the number clearances from the suits of the troopers that were clearly visible. She almost laughed at herself. How could she have over looked this? It was so obvious that she almost hit herself on the head.  
  
There was one Imperial that wore nothing over his face. She squinted hard and tried to get a better focus. She gave up on that page and turned to the next one.  
  
His face was clear and exposed as he had reached up to tear down the camera. She had a face. She had what she needed. Now if only she could get the Republic's ambassadors to help her...  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter Six

Star Wars: The Dark Calling  
By R. C. Carpenter  
  
Chapter Six  
  
Ciel sat inside a flowery garden that was the center of the orphanage. She stared dreamily at a lizard that was crawling up the side of the rock she was sitting on. The door to the garden flew open and the boy she had been playing with earlier, her best friend, Badge, came running through excitedly.  
  
"Ciel! Ciel! Guess what!" he panted as he approached. He bent over to try and catch his breath, his hands gripping his knees.  
  
Ciel smiled over at him, glad to see him so enthusiastic about something for once. "What is it?"  
  
"Well, I just saw them again." His smile stretched straight across his face.  
  
"Them? All of them?" Ciel inched closer to her friend, trying to keep her voice down.  
  
Badge said in a hushed voice, "No, only the tall man. He was coming out of the hotel down the street and was walking back to where he came from."  
  
Ciel nodded. She had been very interested in the newcomers on Cimmeria. Especially the shorter man. The tall one was hard to read because he was too far off and unfocused. Wandering thoughts bugged her, they were so toilsome to try and regroup. As far as the hairy bestial creature that had accompanied them, he was of little use to her. It had been her upbringing that such barbaric organisms were hard to understand and train. They were almost a complete waste of resources. She did not really believe this theory, but until it could be proven to her otherwise, that is what she would just have to accept.  
  
She whispered, "Do you think he'll be coming back or is he going off planet?"  
  
Badge shut his eyes and twisted his lips, "I dunno. I think he's staying here, he didn't seem like he was in a big hurry."   
  
He moved onto the rock next to her. He looked at the lemon-colored reptile that had now crawled behind his friend. He reached out for it and it waddled with its broad pads onto his open palm. Badge brought the animal around to his front to watch it walk around his hand as he turned it to give it more walking distance.   
  
Ciel, too, watched the little lizard. She touched the tip of her fingers to its back and created a mind link between it and herself. She didn't mind doing the links with tiny beings. It was humanoids and other aliens that drained her. She wished she knew what it was that she was doing. She wished that the tall man would come back so she could link with him.  
  
The lizard stopped its walk and looked up at her. It listened to her thoughts as she listened to his. *"Why is the journey I walk so long?"* he asked her.  
  
"*It is not the journey that's long, it is the path you take."* The lizard nodded and she broke her link. Badge did not notice her little game.  
  
The lizard turned right and started walking up Badge's arm instead of around his palm again and again.  
  
Badge looked at Ciel who was aglow with a smile, "Hey! You did it again, didn't you?"  
  
She smiled wider and looked at the lizard. Badge smiled at her and almost laughed. He knew her tricks. The lizard continued to crawl up his arm.  
  
"What did it say?" Badge asked as he stared down at the lizard.   
  
He wished he could do what Ciel did. He thought that it was the most amazing thing to be able to talk to other beings without speaking. But he knew that there was an abundant amount of pressure and predicaments that went along with it as well.   
  
She had told him most of the stories of the ordeals she had undergone, though it remained mainly in obscurity. She had told him about how when she was first brought to Cimmeria, she had been placed under the care of the orphanage and taught how to use this power that she had. She had so many times wished that there was a way to get rid of this ability, but there was none she could think of. Badge would give anything to help her but he didn't understand it himself, so it was basically useless.  
  
He considered himself lucky to know her and took it upon himself to be her protector and watch over her. He wanted to keep her from ever being hurt again. Ciel had told him, though, that now she felt the newcomers to the planet were a key to helping her either control the ability or loose it. He hoped she was right.  
  
"I gave him some helpful advice." She smiled softly and gazed at the lizard. She was suddenly swept with a strange sensation that she could ordinarily brush aside. It seemed stronger for some reason. Closer. Could they be here now? Were they back already?  
  
Badge studied her closely. He might not have the sixth sense she did, but there was an undeniable connection between the two, be it that she made it that way or not, and he could tell there was definitely something wrong. She never got scared, but he could see a wave of terror flash over her face for a split second.  
  
"It's Them, isn't it? They're back, aren't they?" He backed off the rock a bit and put the lizard on the pseudo-soil.  
  
Ciel couldn't lie well to him, but she tried anyway, "It's nothing. Don't worry, They aren't coming back for a long time. We'll be off the planet when They do anyway."  
  
She stepped down off the rock and walked to an oversized blue flower and sniffed at it nonchalantly, trying to mask the panic. She began to twist the leaves of the plant in her hands and could sense Badge's increasing nervousness.  
  
"Don't try and fool me. I'm not blind, I know when something's wrong and something is really wrong here." He marched over to her, he felt he could protect both of them properly when they were closer.  
  
"I...I don't know what you're talking about. It's nothing. I'm just kind of sick today."  
  
"Sick of Them coming and taking you away." Badge added quickly.  
  
She sighed and her head hung limp. Badge placed a hand on her back and took hold of her left arm to bring her to the ground.  
  
Her voice was shaky and scared, "Why do They keep coming back here? Don't They have other kids they can torture? Why always me?"  
  
She leaned over onto his shoulder and cried. He placed his right arm around her shoulder and brought her head down to his lap. He hated Them. He vowed he would get even with them for making her so upset all the time. She was so young and helpless, why didn't They pick on someone older? Like him. He'd gladly change places if it meant she was out of harm's way. He might only be two years older, but that was enough for him.   
  
"Shh...it'll be okay." He said, rubbing her hair gently to try and soothe her. He rocked back and forth with her in his arms. She sobbed softly. Badge felt something, something strong growing within him, as if something Ciel had said made a hidden sense inside his mind snap open. And he watched his best friend, crying as she was, and knew then that he had to protect her and help her with her quest. Ciel was special, he knew this, but maybe he was special too, in other ways. Maybe he could find the tall man again, and talk with him. Then they both could get off that forsaken planet and live simple lives.  
  
But what Badge could never have known at that moment, when he made his silent vow to watch over Ciel like a brother would his sister, was that their lives would never be simple again.  
  



End file.
